


Crown of Splendor: The Grandma O’Neill Series

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-18
Updated: 2004-10-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 04:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10351980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: WARNINGS:  Quite a bit of strong language, vile temper, and over-all snarkyattitude as one might be expected to exhibit while pinned to a wall by a sharppointy thing.SPOILERS: Well, d’oh, that would be a yes for ‘Message in a Bottle.’SEASON: 2SUMMARY: We have an opportunity to get inside Jack O’Neill’s head during his stuck-to-the-wall-without-benefit-of-Velcro period.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Stargate SG-1 Missing Scene Fanfiction - Crown of Splendor: The Grandma O’Neill Series

"Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life." (Proverbs 16:31). 

My Grandma O’Neill once told me that it was easier to hold down the fort when it wasn’t under siege. I think the wisdom behind those words is finally starting to sink in to this thick skull of mine. But I’m thinking that in all honesty, Grandma never had this situation in mind when she shared them. 

Grandma never laid claim to being psychic or anything and she’d no doubt take a switch to my backside, even today, if she caught me spreading rumors like that about her, or anyone else. To her dying day, she denied it was anything but good fortune the night she woke Grandpa up at midnight, and made him get out of bed to check the barn just in time for him to put out the fire that was smoldering in the straw. And she claimed it was the good Lord, Himself, that led her down to the pond, the day my cousin Paul fell through the ice after he’d been told not to go skating. In fact, despite Grandma’s objections, she had a bit of a reputation around the county for having a sixth sense about things. Whenever he wanted to get Grandma riled, Grandpa would call it horse sense. ‘It’s just plain ol’ common sense,’ she would snap before she realized he was teasing her. ‘You’re either born with it, or you’re not.’ She’d pause and give him a look to let him know on just which side of the fence he fell. ‘Cause you’re not going to catch it in the middle of the pond with a baited hook.’ 

‘Jack,’ she’d tell me, while we sat on the back porch shelling pole beans. ‘Generally speaking, you aren't learning much when your lips are moving. The trick is to surround yourself with others who know what they’re talking about, and then decide what to use and what to discard. It’s just like these beans.’

I know Grandma’d be proud of me in that regard. I’ve done good. Surrounded myself with the best that there is. 

Over the years, Grandma’s words have held me in good stead. I learned early to raise the toilet seat and put it back down after I finish, a habit I still catch myself doing even after being the lone occupant of my home for a number of years. I’ve learned that if I lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it. And I learned that if you live in the river, you’d better make damn sure you make friends with the crocodile.

When I made the decision to allow Carter and Daniel to bring back that damn orb I wish I’d had even a little bit of Grandma’s intuition, horse or other wise. I don’t know why I ignored my normal knee-jerk response of, ‘No, Daniel.’ I guess it just seemed harmless enough. The whole metallic bowling ball persona lulled me. Even Teal’c gave his official nod of approval.

Hell, sometimes I’m not as closed-minded as I let on and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to let the kids bring home a souvenir.

Wrong on both counts. 

Shouldn’t have allowed it. And yeah, it hurt bad. Real bad.

Who would have thought it would have hurt so much having a superheated spike pierce your shoulder at high speed and pin you to a concrete wall like an insect specimen? Go figure.

Honest to God, it happened so fast, it didn’t even have time to register when Carter shouted. The old adrenaline was already pumping as Teal’c and I raced through the corridors towards the gate with that damn orb pulsating threats through the heat. It took everything I had not to drop it as it seared through the cloth. But, I thought we were gonna make it once we reached the gateroom. Jack O’Neill - ever the optimist. Yeah, well like Grandma used to say, ‘If it weren’t for the optimists, the pessimist would never know how happy he isn’t.’

One second, I’m trying to keep an eye on Teal’c, and the next, I’m flying backwards and slamming into the far wall with teeth rattling force that probably registered at some point on deep space telemetry. It was like being shot. You don’t realize it’s happened until you’re flat on your ass on the ground, looking up and wondering how you got there. Pain’s secondary. And yes, I’ve been shot enough times to be considered an expert in this matter. But don’t bother asking. I ain’t telling.

At first the air was thick with panic. Even Teal’c, which if I’d had any spare gray matter to think about it, would have scared the shit out of me. He was, and I didn’t, which ought to clue you in on the gist of the whole matter. 

I was pretty much occupied by the chopstick from hell, which at the moment was the predecessor to a fortune cookie that read, ‘You are so screwed.’ And to think, I used to like Chinese.

That’s basically when that siege of Grandma’s began. I don’t know when I first realized it. Not for a while, at least. At first I was pretty much focused on that damn spear and how freakin’ bad I was hurting. Call me quirky that way. Burning fingers of pain - clawing their way through my shoulder - edging across my chest. Eating their way in every direction until I couldn’t be sure of the source. A battering ram slamming with mind-numbing force, keeping rhythm with my racing pulse. Again and again, until I hear my own voice screaming for help, begging Teal’c to destroy this thing, which had set out to take me prisoner.

If I was in a more charitable mood I might call it organized chaos. Carter, Daniel, Hammond too, - I think - probably others, all trying not to show how seriously freaked they are. I want to tell them their facade sucks, but at the moment I can barely hold it together enough not to lose it completely. Not to start flopping like a gigged fish. Carter shows her vastly superior intelligence and informs everyone that the spear went through my shoulder and into the concrete. Yeah, like anyone with the IQ of a pingpong ball didn’t have that one figured out. 

Fraiser’s there, poking and prodding, asking questions that don’t matter one iota given the circumstances. Who gives a flying fuck if the wound is too clean? Not enough trauma? Trust me Doc, there’s more than enough to go around. Right now, shooting this damn thing is number one priority. Escape. Flight. What ever you want to call it. That ‘get me the hell out of here’ feeling that was in direct competition with the pain trying to consume me at the moment. Put your money down, Doc. The scoreboard’s reading Pain - 1, Flight - 0. It’s a pretty sure bet.

Teal’c finally shows up after a year or so. When this is over, we’re so gonna have to have a talk about the meaning of ‘hurry-the-hell-up-I’m-dying-here.’ Another little tidbit Grandma taught me was ‘be careful what you ask for. You just might get it.’ One second I’m totally focused on ordering the big guy to shoot the damn orb, cavalierly thinking that things were pretty much at the bottom of the shithouse, when suddenly I found out another load was just waiting to be dumped. Poised right over the head of yours truly. Lucky me.

For about a tenth of a second, I hung there in blissful ignorance. And then, that hurricane of pain I thought was a 5 on the Saffir-Simpson Scale, was suddenly downgraded to a tropical depression on the radar screen by comparison, as an energy-filled tidal surge washed over and through me and showed me the meaning of the perfect storm. That fire that had been doing its best to devour me flared, threatening to cause me to spontaneously combust on the spot. I should be so lucky. See that black outline on the wall? Well, that’s where Colonel Jack O’Neill hung. One minute he was alive and semi-well, and the next he issued an order and made an ash out of himself.

It seems like the laws of Nature should have kicked in right about now and the tidal wave would have put out the fire. Well, paint a target on me and change my name to Murphy. Who would’ve thought my tidal wave was made out of gasoline?

Pain literally did it’s best to rip me apart at the seams as that energy pounded its way through me.

Over the years, I’ve had one or two CO’s who claimed that I wasn’t playing with a full deck. I like to think that they were wrong. That it was a clever sham on my part to lull folks into the misconception that it was safe to underestimate me. There’s been occasions when that little ploy has kept me alive. Apparently this time, however, it was trying to get me killed, because those one or two brain cells that had somehow missed the cookout decided to get in on the fun and I heard myself order Teal’c to do it again. Ah crap. So this is what a burnt marshmallow feels like. I swear to God, I’ll never eat S’Mores again.

Obviously my old buddy Teal’c wasn’t the optimist I had him pegged for and I hear him mutter something about the weapon being ineffective.

Ineffective, my Aunt Alice’s ass! Teal’c, old buddy, trust me on this one. That weapon was more than effective. Problem was, Mr. Lips and Mr. Tongue seem to have taken a vacation at the moment and I couldn’t seem to find the words to stop him. Guess Teal’c wasn’t as impressed with the fireworks as I had been because he left to see if he could find something else to make my joy complete. He’s thoughtful that way.

Must have been a little tired because it seemed like the perfect time to take a nap. Funny thing was, I could have sworn I had dozed off upright. Stuck in a hide-away Murphy bed. What the heck is this Murphy theme I had going? First Murphy’s Law and now his bed. What’d I ever do to piss that guy off? 

When I woke up, it felt like I was sitting in a steamroom sans the extra firm concrete mattress. I cracked open an eye and there stood Fraiser right next to me. Sorry, Doc, but this is the men’s locker room at the moment. You’re gonna have to wait your turn. Apparently that doesn’t faze her a bit. Crap, don’t tell me I was stuck in the middle of one of those ‘standing-in-the-middle-of-a-crowded-room-in-your-underwear’ dreams. I can hear Carter and Daniel mumbling somewhere through the waves of intense heat. Teal’c? Siler? Dammit, I must have nodded off during an impromptu SGC sauna party. Makepeace’s boys must have decided to spike the punch again. Hope I remembered to bring my towel this time. 

"Hot," I mutter. Always go for the obvious when in doubt. That’s my motto.

Good old Doc. She knows how to cheer me up. "You’ve got a very high fever," she smiles. Doc’s good about stating the obvious, too. She tells me she’s gonna give me one of her broadband infection fighting specials. But I gotta tell you, for once I never even felt the bite of her needle. That’s got to mean something, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what at the moment.

I kind of drift for a while. Floating on a raft of fever-induced stupor. I lean over and let my fingers trail through the current, enjoying the feel of being one with the river. Yeah, I’ve read ‘Siddhartha,’ but don’t tell Daniel. It’d blow my image. I watch apathetically as shadows dart back and forth through the water. 

The Sears catalog was considered prime entertainment when I was a kid. We kids would stretch out in front of the fireplace on the braided rug and lust after the unattainable wonders that lay between those covers. The pages with the bicycles drew my cousins and me like flies on poop. We’d study those pictures for hours, debating the various merits of each model, drooling over the accessories and recoiling with fear that one of the others might actually get one of these beauties and leave the rest of us puttering along in his chrome-encrusted dust.

Grandma would sit there in her chair leafing through her Ladies Home Journal, dog-earing the recipes and helping Grandpa whenever he got stuck on his crossword. ‘What do you boys need a ten-speed bike for?’ she’d ask. ‘You can only use one speed at a time.’ Then she’d toss a wink to Grandpa and add, ‘I guess life’s like those ten-speed bikes. Most of us have gears we never use.’

Grandma would probably have figured I’d slipped one of those gears because it took me quite a while to realize those shadows shouldn’t have been there. By the time I’d wrapped my muddled brain around that fact I was already on my way over the waterfall and didn’t have a hope in hell of swimming my way up stream.

You know something funny? Even through the heat waves threatening to melt me, I can feel the tension pouring off Teal’c. The big guy’s pissed and doing a pretty poor job of covering it up if you ask me. So much for the calming effects of that Kelno’reem. I’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so bad. Vaguely it registers that he’s ready to chew Siler’s ass. Siler’s a good man. It’s hard to shake him, but even he’s looking stressed. Having Teal’c looming isn’t helping. Easy big fellow, don’t stampede the hired help. Teal’c moves away, which is a relief to Siler and me since I’m already feeling like I’ve been caught in one stampede; I don’t need T-man starting another.

The shadows are back. But this time they’ve brought company. I catch them on the edge of my peripheral vision. And then I realize that my eyes are closed. That could be a problem. I’ve definitely got the feeling someone’s come a knocking at the ol’ O’Neill homestead and seems to be making themselves mighty comfortable at my expense. I know I ought to scout out the situation, maybe do a little internal recon, but I’ll be damned if I can work up enough gumption to do it. So tired. Maybe Doc slipped me a mickey. Maybe. Hope that’s it, because I’d hate to feel this shit-awful bad for no particular reason. 

It takes a hydraulic lift, but I finally manage to slit open one eye. Yep, Siler’s still at it. Good man. It may be my imagination, but it seems like the gateroom is kinda dark. Guess Hammond didn’t pay the bill this month. God, I don’t know when I’ve ever been this hot and miserable. There’s bound to have been times . . . considering . . .everything. But I just can’t seem to cut through this funky blue fog that’s settling in around me. In me. Crap!

"Teal’c?"

He answers immediately. "I am here, O’Neill." 

I blink away the blue film that is screwing up my vision. Ah, the hell with it. Not worth the effort. "It’s hot."

"The fever burns within you," he tells me.

Ah, been taking lessons from Doc, Teal’c? Getting pretty good at stating the obvious, big guy. There’s a spark of conscience somewhere in that out of control brushfire raging through me and I suddenly recognize the fact that I’m being pretty damn self-centered here. "You?" I croak. 

"The symbiote I carry appears to protect me."

Ya gotta trust me here, Buddy. Inside I’m leading a brass band for you. But I just don’t have it to give right now. "Way to go, Junior." It comes out a puny whisper. Sorry. I really am, but it’s the best I can do. 

Grandma had a few cardinal rules she lived by. Only use Golden Delicious Apples grown in the eastern part of the country for the best pies. Make sure you never lose sight of the woods because of the trees. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them you're a mile away and you have their shoes. Most of the time, no one had to guess where she stood on most topics. She believed in speaking her mind. Grandpa would’ve put his hand on the Bible to that. But one thing I never heard Grandma vocalize was that it was important to stand by your friends in their hour of need. She didn’t need to speak it, because she was too busy living it. I watched her quietly go about helping, lending a hand, sharing the load. At Grandma’s funeral people showed up from all over the county and beyond to pay their respects and share a few words of how Grandma had helped them out when they needed it. I stood there next to Grandpa, listening to deed after deed, of which none of us had ever been aware. 

‘Our baby was sick with a fever. Your missus was there, fixing meals, taking care of the other kids, washing, whatever needed doing. She came every day until he was better. Encouraging us to hang on - to believe in miracles. Claimed she knew that child was going to live, because he had important things to do in this world. That’s him, the big, tall fellow standing over there with his wife and their baby. She sure was right. Never will forget her helping us out that way. Not letting us give up.’ 

‘She helped me get through school. I was ready to quit, but she wouldn’t let me. Told me I’d better be on her back porch every afternoon after school and be ready to cram some learning into that thick skull of mine, or she was gonna come looking for me. She said it didn’t make a lick of sense for a kid like me to end up in some dead end job. A kid like me - no one else in my family had ever even made it through high school, much less thought about college. She was there, sitting in the front row, when I got my diploma. She made me believe.’

‘My dad was out of work - laid off during the cutbacks. We were making it - barely - but there was never any money for extras. I got asked to the senior dance, but I knew I didn’t have anything to wear that was near good enough. I didn’t even mention it to my folks. They had enough to try and keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. I don’t know how she found out, but Mrs. O’Neill asked me to stop by one afternoon. She had the most beautiful material I’d ever seen laid out on the kitchen table. Nicer than anything the local store carried. She told me it was for my prom dress. I couldn’t believe it. I went over there for a couple of hours every day and we worked on it together. It was so beautiful and I was so proud to wear it. She made me feel special. Like I was important.’

Stand by in their hour of need - Yeah, Grandma lived those words.

I was thinking about that when Teal’c reached out and wiped the sweat off my forehead. 

"Doctor Fraiser will find a cure." The words are soft, the gesture gentle, tender. Not something you’d expect from a warrior. Not something I would normally have been comfortable with. Teal’c and me, we’re not touchy-feely kind of guys.

All of a sudden, my eyes are glassy and wet. I swear it’s the fever. Give me a break, I’m sick. Doc said so. Swallowing a couple of times, I reach deep inside and search out the words that would express how deeply touched I am. I got nothing, so I just say, "Teal’c, you don’t have to stick around."

He gives me a level, knowing stare. Calm. Wise. "Undomesticated equines could not remove me."

I’m on autopilot. At first it doesn’t register and I correct him automatically. "Wild horses, Teal’c, it’s . . ." Then I catch that flicker in his eyes. ". . . that’s a joke. You told a joke." Communication with Teal’c is a matter of subtleties on a good day, which this is not. "Don’t make me laugh."

He tilts his head in acknowledgment. "Very well." 

I feel a warmth wash over me that goes way beyond the fever. "You’re a good man, my friend."

"As are you, my friend."

Yeah, Grandma, I’ve surrounded myself with damn good people.

Apparently, Siler’s been a busy little camper while Teal’c and I have been doing the male bonding thing, because he brings us back to reality land. "Sir, I’m just about through here."

That’s when the orb decides to join the choir without the benefit of words. There’s this freaky humming that sounds like a queen bee experiencing a killer case of PMS. Without any more warning the spike decides to ride the shoulder rail into the O’Neill Tunnel of Terror. I swear Siler’s blowtorch has skewered me, setting off embers that blaze to life, engulfing my entire body in a pyre of red-hot pain. I’m screaming. Begging for help without the strength to say the words. 

"It will not allow us to free you, O’Neill."

Oh God. Oh God! I’m crying without the release of tears. Impotent to communicate the agony. "God . . . God, help me!" Wide-eyed, I stare at Teal’c and, with gut wrenching certainty, know that he’s as helpless as I am. 

Without saying anything, with God, marines, and the rest of my world watching, he reaches out his hands and catches mine, sharing the pain, the only way he can. My hands tighten and I don’t give a fuck that I’m sitting there holding hands with this man - my friend. We ride the waves together until the crest of the pain has passed and I can manage on my own again. Only then does he release his grip - when he knows I’m back on sure ground. He doesn’t say a word, just looks me in the eye and tells me without any pesky words getting in the way that he understands. That he’s here and I’m not in this alone. Yeah - a hell of a good man.

I know Carter’s up there scrambling to figure a way out of this mess. Daniel, too. They’ve got the best and the brightest working ‘round the clock. I don’t mean to sound critical, but I’ve got to tell you, I’m beginning to get this niggling idea they’re never going to come up with an answer. And you know what I’ve discovered? Never is a long time. Sounds like something Grandma might have said. Maybe she did. It’s just that sitting still has never been a strength of mine. Ask Hammond, he’ll tell you. He’s a lot more tolerant than most and I’ve been known to stretch his patience a time or two, or six. 

Teal’c is still standing guard. I know Doc’s still pumping me full of drugs, but I’m feeling worse, like that glowy blue stuff that’s coming out of the orb is sand and I’m the hourglass and time is running out. I can feel myself being buried inside my own body - going down - and I don’t think I’m going to have an option whether or not to bury my head in the sand. This time the sand’s doing the burying. It’s in control and we both know it. It’s like I’m losing who I am and it scares the shit out of me. Not trying to be negative or anything, but if Carter doesn’t figure out something soon, Teal’c’s gonna be guarding the tomb of the unknown soldier.

Normally - I’d laugh at that, if I had the strength. Since when has anything we do around here been normal? But normally, Teal’c’s equines couldn’t drag a confession out of me. So it must be my cheerful thoughts of dying that makes me say it aloud. "I blew it. I screwed up."

T doesn’t even pretend not to understand. He never was one to pull a punch. "I also believed we should retrieve the object."

Ouch. Can’t have my team taking the guilt. It’s mine. Alone. That’s what it says in the manual under the section marked ‘Being in Command.’ "It was my decision." I go for a steely glare of declaration so that he knows I mean business, but it comes out more of a liquid imperative that refuses to solidify.

Then damn if Teal’c doesn’t nail me to the wall again. As if once today hadn’t been enough. "If we are to meet the challenge of the Goa’uld and further your race, risks must be taken. Your decision was correct."

Damn good people, Grandma.

Did you ever try and listen to sounds underwater? Things are distorted - distant. When I was a kid, my cousins and I would go skinny-dipping at the pond. We’d take turns yelling messages to each other under the water, until one of us would suck up a lung-full of water and we’d all surface and laugh like we didn’t have a brain cell among us. That’s how it is now. Like I’m back in that pond with Paul and the other guys, listening to their words under a couple of feet of water. Even with my eyes closed tight, I know my kids are near. They haven’t abandoned me. That much I know. I’m trying to make out what they’re saying, but I can’t get above this damn blue jello that is starting to solidify in me. Words . . . Phrases filter in. Enough to terrify me. Enough to give me hope.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"O’Neill will die."

"He’d want us to try."

Carter moves closer. I don’t know if it’s me, or the jello, but both of us seem to know something’s about to happen.

"Sir?"

Sorry Carter, can’t seem to make the old vocal cords work right now. You have my permission to speak freely. Don’t wait for me to catch up.

"Sir, I don’t know if what we are about to try is a good idea or not, but you have a right to know. You might not survive it."

Are you kidding? Go for it, Carter. I’ll tell ya about my grandma sometime. She would have liked you. She used to tell me, ‘Jack, it was a bold man who first ate an oyster.’ But, if Grandma had known you she might’ve said, ‘It was a bold woman.’ I’ve long held to the premise that if you believe in others, they’ll believe in themselves. You go be bold, Carter. I’m counting on you. Again.

I manage to fight my way through the tide of gel long enough to raise one hand above the lapping waves. I have to let her know. I have to. My fingers tighten before the current pulls me back under. But it was enough. I know my team, my lifeline, is still there fighting to get me back to shore.

The energy hits me and I go under. Again. I’m still struggling - reaching for the surface. I manage to draw one tiny, insignificant breath of who I am, before I am dragged down for the third time. Grandma once said, ‘Your mind can either free or imprison you.’ There’ve been times in my career when that freedom of my mind has been the only thing that kept me alive. I learned a long time ago that you can be as free as your mind let’s you. Circumstances taught me it was a good place to take refuge when you need it. 

And so I draw further in as my walls are breached. I retreat as the siege comes to an end and my defenses are shattered. ‘We have met the enemy and he is us.’ That Pogo may not be in the same league as Homer Simpson, but he was one smart cartoon. And this time he hit the nail on the proverbial head. I crawl into that foolish little corner of hope, draw a ragged blanket of trust over myself. And wait.

"Good morning, campers."

Bastards. They’re using my own words. What, stealing my body wasn’t enough, ya gotta go for the whole package?

"This is truly a strange feeling."

Yeah, well ya ought to try it from my side of the fence, Sparky. They pretty much ignore me. Big surprise there.

"Colonel?"

Damn straight, Carter. I’m still in here. Just lounging around waiting for you to Get Me the Hell Out of Here!

"Yes, he is here."

Got that right, Glow Boy. I am here. This is my body you’ve been messing with. Mine. You’re trespassing. Didn’t see the ‘Do Not Enter’ sign, did ya? 

"Who else are we talking to?"

Yeah, I’d kind of like to know that myself before my people kick your interloping ass.

"We are also here."

Okay, We. Time to hit the road. Vamoose. Vaya con Dios, baby. Exit stage right. The door’s that a way. You’re not buying any of this, are you?

"My name is . . ."

Hear that Texas twang? That, boys, is the cavalry, led by General George Hammond. He knows all about retaking forts. You may as well give it up right now. Come out with your . . . my hands raised. 

"Hammond, yes, O’Neill knows."

Damn straight I know. Best commander I’ve ever served under. How about getting out of here so I can get back to serving under him. Are you guys listening to me?

"Then you should also know that we mean you no harm."

Ah, sorry sir. Been a little busy in here. Never got around to that part.

"You awoke us."

All this because you woke up on the wrong side of the galaxy? For cryin’ out loud, can we spell over-reaction.? 

I zone out for a minute until I hear Daniel say, "We feared you."

Well that got my attention. Dammit Daniel. What have I told you about ‘need to know’? 

"And your fear would have destroyed us. Millennia ago our world was dying. . . ."

Millennia? Crap, this may take a while. I decide to relax awhile and let the others handle it for a bit. Daniel’s good at this stuff. He lives by the golden rule: Negotiate with others, as you would have them negotiate with you. Okay Danny Boy, take it. I got ‘em warmed up. They’re all yours.

Long story short. He does, and, wonder of wonders, they buy what he has to say. The next thing I know I’m out of my corner and on my feet. That damn spear’s gone and I’m carrying it up the ramp. I’d like to drop kick it through the event horizon, but I’m feeling a little washed out so I settle for a gentle push. Bon Voyage. Sorry I didn’t bring champagne. Don’t worry about sending a post card. I could probably have come up with a few more pithy remarks, but all of a sudden it seems like a good time to fall flat on my ass.

Teal’c’s there before I can begin to pick myself up. They did it. My kids didn’t leave me behind. You’d have been proud of them, Grandma. I am. You used to tell me, ‘Look inside yourself for the strength to continue.’ But you know, Grandma, I kind of think my inner strength is welded to the strength of these people. I believe in them. You’d understand if you’d met them. 

There’s so much I want to say. Ought to say. Can’t. "Nice work," I manage.

"It is good to see you alive and well."

"Welcome back, Jack."

"Thought you were gone for good, sir."

Yeah, well, for a while there I thought so too, Carter. But I had good people fighting to get me back. It’s all a matter of trust. Trust and holding down the fort until help arrives. I knew the cavalry would get there sooner or later. I couldn’t always hear the bugle, but I never lost track of the sound of the hooves. "Wild horses, Captain."

**~*fin*~**

  


* * *

  


> Author’s Notes: Many thanks to Amanda, Foxphile, and Celeste for volunteering their much needed and appreciated beta services. It has been said that behind every great man there is a great woman. This fic has given me the opportunity to introduce just one of the great women in Jack O’Neill’s life.

* * *

> © September 2004 They’re not mine; although a rumor, started by me,   
>  claims that they’d like to be. Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate   
> (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret productions, and Gekko   
> Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money   
> exchanged hands. No copyright infringement in intended. They don’t earn me a   
> dime, just new friends and some time away from RL, and a chance to escape the   
> clutches of the insatiable pagan god of laundry. That’s entertainment! The   
> original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This   
> story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.  
> 

* * *

  



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